


Scrap Metal

by friendlylocalwhumper



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Beating, Blood and Violence, Forced to Watch, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Hank, Verbal Abuse, Vulnerable Connor, and he can feel it, attacked in an alley, connor gets the crap beat outta him, connor's afraid, hank has to watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlylocalwhumper/pseuds/friendlylocalwhumper
Summary: Hank and Connor are attacked in an alley by anti-android activists. They do something to Connor - something that makes the whole ordeal far, far worse.





	Scrap Metal

**Author's Note:**

> @pigeon130 on Tumblr sent me this prompt: "Hey! For prompts I was wondering if you could do one where Hank and Connor get like jumped by a group of protesters who are anti-android rights (maybe this is after the revolution?) and they have to fight them off but Connor gets hurt and hank has to help him?? Maybe with the head cannon deviants feel pain? Idk it's up to you! I love your writing BTW ♡♡♡"
> 
> Here you are, darling!

"Hey, scrap metal!"

Connor's smooth strides weren't interrupted as he proceeded down the sidewalk, but Hank stopped immediately. Before he could lash out with his usual snide attitude, the group of strangers came forward. They moved in from the street, forcing an increasingly grumpy-looking Hank to back into the alley to avoid being surrounded. Connor turned to see the distraction now. With an air of untouchable focus, Connor gently pushed past the people blocking his way to get to Hank.

"Got a problem, old man?"

Connor visually checked Hank's well-being before he turned to greet the strangers.

"Hello," He cheered, distracting from how he stood slightly in front of Hank with his obnoxious voice. "My name is Connor, I'm-"

"We know what you are," One of the group interjected, and quite angrily, Connor noted. "You're a fuckin' android."

Connor cocked his head to the side, considering the best response and conveying slight confusion. Some humans were put at ease if he conveyed vulnerability.

Others latched onto that and strove to exploit it. These humans seemed to be of the latter variety.

"What, you confused, trash can? You're an android, you steal jobs. You _kill_ people. And now you want fucking rights? You should all burn."

"All right, that's enough. Get out of our way or I'm gonna have all of you arrested."

There was a scuffle behind him, and Connor spun to see what it was. Hank grunted and struggled as a man secured him in a chokehold.

"Let him go!" Connor demanded, stepping forward. He stopped short when the man gave him a warning look.

"Try anything, android, and I'll snap his neck. You understand?"

He could not allow any harm to come to Lieutenant Anderson. Nodding, he stayed where he was, eyeing the criminal warily. Hank made a wheezing sound, trying to pull the arm from around his throat.

"Please don't apply so much pressure. There's no need to harm him." He reconsidered his approach to the request. "If he falls unconscious, you will lose your advantage."

With a huff, the man let up the pressure, allowing Hank to breathe but still holding him in a compromised position.

"Connor!" The detective yelled right before something slammed into the back of his head. The android fell to his knees, a hand coming up to feel the point of impact. He felt thirium running down the back of his neck. Someone grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head to the side. He didn't fight back, knowing Hank's like hung in the balance.

"Have you heard of component #2407n, huh?" Whoever held him asked. Connor felt something sharp being pressed to the skin just behind his right ear.

"Component #2407n regulates receptors like the brain does nerves; it aides in determining temperature, pressure, and texture. It is crucial in my work as a detective for analyzing evidence."

"It's usually deactivated. That's why you don't feel anything, you dumb metal fuck. And some... very creative friends of ours have found out how to amp it up. Make you feel everything, just like a real person."

"No!" Hank struggled harder and was easily subdued with warning pressure making his breaths come shallower.

"It's alright, Lieutenant Anderson," Connor called, trying to prevent any damage to his friend.

"Oh, I can't wait for that stupid condescending voice to be breaking. Just do it already!" One of the mob demanded, and the man holding him chuckled.

"You're not gonna like this." The sharp instrument dug into his skin - he sensed it, but didn't feel it. Then, with a twist and a click somewhere inside, something snapped. Suddenly, the world came alive. He felt the cold asphalt pressing into his knees through his clothing. He smelled the sour air of downtown Detroit. He felt his biocomponents thrumming with life.

He felt the gash in his head from whatever had been bashed into his skull, and the hot thirium leaking from it.

He felt the ice pick that had been driven beneath his skin.

Connor screamed.

The ice pick was drawn out and he was kicked to the ground. Connor lay there, one shaking hand going up to the wound. _Shaking._ He'd never felt anything like this. He could feel the puddle he'd fallen into soaking his clothes, setting a slight chill into his body. He squeezed his eyes shut at the onslaught of sensations.

"How's that feel, you plastic piece of shit? Is it as good as you imagined?" Someone kicked him in the chest and Connor wheezed, trying to curl in on himself. Hands grabbed him and dragged him up by the arms. The palm of his hand scraped against the ground, just a little scratch, but he hissed at the burning sensation of broken skin. His head pounded painfully. How fragile he was now.

"You're going to suffer for everything you fuckers did." A punch to the gut. Connor cried out. "You're going to take it, and you're going to feel it." Another punch. The android tried to speak after he grunted at the impact.

"You don't have to-" Another punch cut him off. "-to do this." Another blow knocked the breath from him. He tried to twist free of their grips. If he wasn't damaged - _injured_ \- he could easily fight them off. If his senses weren't overloaded. If he wasn't actually winded. He'd never imagined it felt like this. He'd never imagined feeling.

A punch knocked his head to the side, and his jaw ached with the force of it. He could taste his own thirium. Not just analyzing it, not taking a sample. He could _taste_ it. It made him gag.

"What, can't take a beating? I thought androids were so much stronger than humans." Another punch to the face made something crack, and he actually screamed. Thirium gushed from his nose. It wasn't just the pain of his now-broken nose, it was fear. He didn't know how much pain was normal, didn't know how bad they'd break him. He found himself terrified of each hit, on the verge of begging for it to stop.

Hank beat him to it.

"Stop! For fuck's sake, _stop!_ You're killing him!"

"Oh, we're nowhere near done." Connor was grabbed by the throat. With his arms held securely at his sides, he couldn't alleviate the pressure. He'd been grabbed by the throat before - Hank himself had pinned him in such a way - but he'd never _felt_ it. The pressure sending his mind into a panic. The disruption to airflow that made his body jerk, desperate to escape. "Ah, ah, ah, don't fight. You want your precious detective friend to live, don't you?"

A strangled sound of desperation passed the android's clenched teeth. He tried to stop fighting, even though he couldn't breathe, couldn't take being touched a second longer.

"Now," The grip on his throat was maintained, and Connor's lips parted, trying to draw air that just wouldn't come. "We're gonna beat the holy hell out of you, scrap metal, and you're not going to fight back. If you do, we're gonna kill your friend. Got it?"

Connor didn't hesitate to mouth, "Yes." Of _course_ he understood. He knew he couldn't fight them off, he wouldn't be able to take out a single one of them in his condition. And all he wanted this very moment was to breathe. One want, one need, one all-consuming desire. Air. He _couldn't,_ couldn't take one more second without it-

And the grip on his throat was released. He was allowed to fall to the ground as he twisted, desperately choking down air. He gasped roughly, coughs making him convulse, one hand at his throat and the other clutching his chest.

Boots were driven into his gut, his back, making him jerk and curl up. Every time he made a sound of pain, they laughed or kicked harder to hear it again, louder. Humiliation burned in him, a foreign, twisted thing that made him want to hide away in the dark somewhere and never be seen again. They kept kicking, kept _hurting_ him, and Connor wondered how they had so much hate for him. He had always been driven by work, yes, but kind and polite and patient no matter what. Betrayal coiled in him at the thought that humans, who he'd given life and limb to serve and protect, would do this.

"Please, pl-" He choked on a sob. "Please stop." A few more kicks and they did. Blearily, Connor watched one of the men crouch down and take hold of his chin, tilting his head back and forth. The android's facial plate was broken just under his right eye, and blue blood was smeared across his face. Tears were falling from his eyes.

"What did you say, 'droid?"

Connor's brow was furrowed. He looked the very picture of terror. "P-please s-s-stop." He kind of crumpled now that the violence had ceased, a sob shaking him. He tried not to cry so much, but once the tears started falling, he couldn't stop them. He couldn't even beg again, he was crying so hard. Everything, _everything_ hurt. He was _so afraid._ The man gave him a condescending pat on the chest, allowing him a moment to break down.

"Alright, there you go. It's rough being able to feel, isn't it? There's a lot to take in." He cupped Connor's cheek in his hand. "Do you need a minute to collect yourself?"

Connor nodded shakily, his breaths stuttering.

"Okay." The man nodded in understanding. "Alright, we'll give you a breather." He stood from the android, who visibly relaxed. As soon as the guy started toward Hank, though, Connor tried to get up to stop him.

"No! W-wait-" He gasped and fell onto his front when he couldn't get to his feet. A choked sound was wrung from his throat. "D-don't touch him!"

"What?" The guy asked innocently, taking the Lieutenant by the shoulder. Hank snarled, still in a choke hold. "Like this?" He drove a fist into the trapped detective's gut, earning a grunt and a breathy, "Fuck you."

Connor tried to get up again, but this time he was shoved back down by a boot to the back. He groaned at the pressure, looking up at the man threatening Hank with desperate eyes.

"Please don't hurt him."

"I think you should be worried about yourself, little robot."

"Y-you, you can have me, just, just let him go."

"Connor, no!"

The man moved away from Hank - thank RA9 - and approached the android once more. The pressure on his back disappeared and he was pulled back up to his knees. Connor tried to blink the tears free of his eyes as he avoided Hank's half-murderous, half-concerned glare. The criminal's face was contorted in a smile that was far from friendly.

"Have you? What, you think we wanna take you home or something?" He shook his head, then crouched down to be face-to-face with his victim. "We just want to _break_ you."

Connor shuddered, but he held the criminal's eyes. "Let him go. Break me, and let him go."

The man's head tilted. "Well, let's give the 'droid what he wants."

~

Cold. So cold, but not enough to be numb. Pain flooded his senses, making tears well up in his eyes again. _Had he stopped crying yet?_

"Connor, damn it, open your eyes."

Oh. Were they closed? Connor obeyed. His vision was hazy for a few seconds before he managed to focus on Hank. Connor was in his arms, held close like a fragile, damaged thing.

"Please," He begged, a little delirious. He didn't know where the humans were, didn't know if they were going to drag him away now that he was awake. "H-h-hurts," He whispered, and with the look that crossed the detective's face, Connor knew he wasn't the only one in pain.

"You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you fixed up, alright, kid?"

Connor's lip quivered and hot tears welled up in his eyes. "I... I-I'm s-s-scared."

"You're safe. I'm gonna keep you safe. They're gone, see?" Connor didn't look around. He was too tired. He'd lost a lot of thirium. "I'm gonna get you home and get you warm, take care of the damage. You'll be good as new."

That sounded good. That was what Connor wanted, to be safe and warm, for the pain to melt away. He'd never wanted such things before, but now he needed them so keenly that he would give anything to have them.

"Please," Connor whimpered. "Home."


End file.
